


Stag Night: What Should Have Happened

by HobbitAtHeart, holmesing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Minor Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Weed, blowjob, high as a kite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobbitAtHeart/pseuds/HobbitAtHeart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmesing/pseuds/holmesing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our take on what should have happened in "The Sign of Three". Sherlock and John get super high! ENJOY</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stag Night: What Should Have Happened

The bitter taste of alcohol still lingered on Sherlock’s tongue. He lay haphazardly across a blue armchair, his drooping head resting on his chin. His pupils were dilated significantly so, and his expression was somewhat dazed and confused. Across from him sat John, who looked even more disheveled and tipsy than he.   
“Am I a pretty girl?” John asked groggily, swaying in his seat. He couldn’t help the small snort that escaped his mouth at the question.   
Sherlock squinted his eyes as he looked closer at the name on John’s forehead. “I don’t- I don’t know who that is,” he stuttered.   
John let out a small giggle. “How the hell do you not know it, Sherlock? You chose the name!” he retorted. John grabbed the piece of paper off his forehead and looked at the word in disbelief. “Cannabis?” John questioned jokingly.   
“Is that what it said?” Sherlock asked obliviously.   
“I hate to break it to you, Mr. Holmes, but Cannabis isn’t a woman.”   
“I knew a woman named Cannabis once.”  
“Really?” John raised his eyebrowns.   
“Yup.”  
“Did you happen to be on Cannabis when you met her?”  
“No, John. Unlike you, I don’t sleep with every woman I meet.”  
“That’s not what I meant,” John replied. “But, speaking of weed--” He stumbled over to the skull hanging on the wall.  
“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, appalled as John took it down. “John, stop!”  
Sherlock’s warning came too late, as John’s fist smashed down hard on the surface of the skull. It cracked and a fragment fell off to reveal a small plastic bag of kush.  
Sherlock stared at John in a bored way for a few seconds until his weary mind registered what John had just done. “What did you do?!” he yelled, jumping out of his seat.  
“Ssh,” John whispered with a finger to his lips. In his other hand he slowly held up the weed and smiled evilly. Sherlock gasped dramatically.   
“John, you didn’t!” he said.  
“John, I did!” John chirped back.

~1 hour later~  
Sherlock and John both sat reclined on the couch, passing back and forth a large, oblong, purple bong.  
“Okay. Okay. If you--alright, if you--no. No, alright. If you had one--no, no, two--no, wait, three--would you?”  
“I totally would,” John laughed, taking another bong rip.  
John leaned over and placed his hand on Sherlock’s knee. “I don’t mind,” he slurred with a shrug of his shoulders.  
“Neither do I,” Sherlock replied in a husky tone.   
“Really?” John asked, genuinely surprised.   
“Sure.”  
John stayed silent for a moment as the effects of the weed stalled his current train of thought. “Has anyone ever...I mean...have you ever…” he trailed off.  
“No,” Sherlock said finally. “Not...like this.”  
“So with a woman then?” He paused. “/The/ woman?”  
Sherlock looked at him through half-lidded eyes in udder puzzlement. “What woman?” he asked obliviously.   
John’s mind momentarily snapped back to reality as he remembered his encounter with the dominatrix.

~ “You...flirted with Sherlock Holmes?”  
“At him,” she corrected. “He never replied.”  
John narrowed his eyes. “No, Sherlock always replies. To everything. He’s Mr. Punchline, he will outlive God trying to have the last word.”  
Irene looked at him inquisitively, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. “Does that make me special?”  
Special. The thought disgusted him. “I don’t know. Maybe.” ~

Now, in the dim light of their living room, John realized that he was wrong. She hadn’t been special.  
Sherlock’s voice brought him back to the present. “Have you?”  
“Have I what?”  
“Done...this?”  
“Nothing’s happened yet, Sherlock.”  
“John, you ignorant sl-” he was cut off abruptly as John rolled off the couch and onto his knees. “J-John, what are you doing?!” Sherlock stuttered, panicking slightly, as John slowly undid Sherlock’s trousers in a tantalizing way. “Lift your hips,” he commanded in his military tone, which he knew secretly turned Sherlock on. Sherlock tentatively raised his hips just enough that John could yank down his trousers and pants altogether to his knees.   
“John, wait,” Sherlock began, yet John disabled any logical speech coming from Sherlock’s mouth as he engulfed his dick with no premonition. “Guh J-” Sherlock choked out, his hands flying downwards to thread his fingers through John’s hair. John reciprocated by placing his hands on Sherlock’s thighs and gradually taking him deeper. Sherlock keened at the motion and huffed out a sharp breath. Smiling, John pulled off and wiped his lips with the back of his hand and gazed naughtily at Sherlock. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked rhetorically. Sherlock hesitated, and then shook his head innocently. A bit too enthusiastically, John took up Sherlock into his mouth again, yet this time with more rigour. Slightly panting, Sherlock lied back against the couch and looked down at John with utmost want. He felt himself climbing closer and closer to the edge, until suddenly he climaxed with a strong grip on John's shoulder and a shudder. Pulling back, John audibly swallowed and in turn, looked up at Sherlock through darkening eyes. 

All of a sudden, the door jarred open to reveal Mycroft's unpleasant physique. "Brother, how many times do I have to repea-," he began, yet found his words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on everything in front of him. "John...John wait...Hey, it's Minecraft!" Sherlock mumbled blearily, glaring at his brother. Mycroft proceeded to appear as an apparition and stood rooted to the spot with widened eyes. "What are you doing?"  
"It's to do with sex," John said blatantly.  
"Don't be alarmed," Sherlock slurred in a mock-tone.   
"Sex doesn't alarm me," Mycroft replied awkwardly.  
"How would you know?!" Sherlock and John shouted simultaneously.


End file.
